Where do I even start...

The past four months have been overwhelming to say the least. My stress level skyrocketed to a new high. Insomnia has dictated the amount of hours I would sleep every day and to make matters worse, some minor health issues occurred sending my body into highs of pain. And when I thought it couldn't get worse than all this, I have gained back ten out of the twenty five pounds I have worked hard to lose last year.

While most of last year has been good, the last few months were emotionally and physically draining for me. A couple weeks after we sold our house, and moved everything out, I got a phone call from Tahiti that lead to a roller coaster of emotions, guilt and unceasing stress.

My mom almost died. If it wasn't for my brother, I would have gone home in October to bury her instead of enjoying spending time with her and serving her the best that I could. Her health has deteriorated so fast that it's a wonder she is still alive today. When I first heard the news, I couldn't contained the tears. My whole body dropped to the floor, it felt so painful to think that I could lose my mom. I never hurt as bad as I did that day. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't talk. I felt paralyzed. I couldn't sleep for a long time after that. I was on the phone with my family almost daily. I couldn't wait to go back to Tahiti and be with my mom. I was so stressed out it hurts just thinking about it.

The guilt of leaving my family to move here took over and I was beating myself daily thinking that I have abandoned them. Thinking that I was a bad daughter for leaving them. I couldn't eat most of the time. I drank lots of water just to fight the daily headaches. Most of the time, I couldn't think or even function properly. And when I actually ate, it was a mixed of this and that and I ate at ode hours of the day and night. It really is a mystery that I was able to fulfill my duties as a mother and a wife. Every day, I struggled to accomplish simple tasks. I stayed away from driving too much because I would fall of sleep while doing it so we stayed home a lot.

To make matters worse too, a lot of the unanswered questions I had about my parents' relations status resurfaced. I felt a lot of anger towards my dad's decision to walk away from his family, from his wife, all these years ago. I was angry that he could deliberately hurt my mom that way, and not give much of an explanation to why. I was angry that he chose someone else over us. I was angry that he wasn't there to fulfill his role as the husband he officially still is to my mom since they never divorced. Where was he? Why wasn't he there? I have kept these feelings of anger locked up in a closet for so many years that it came crushing my emotions going through all that I was going through.

With stress came lots of physical pain. My joints were on fire. My whole body hurt. The discomfort was so great, I was almost feeling sorry for myself which is unusual for me. I wasn't great. I wasn't feeling great. I wasn't me. It all felt heavy.

The trip to Tahiti brought some relief. Marc and I were able to help mom in many different ways. We tried to spoil her with whatever she felt like eating every day. I helped taking care of her with my siblings by providing the care she needed. Some days I would run in the bedroom because it felt overwhelming to look at her skinny and bony body. She looked so unhealthy, so powerless. It hurt to see my mom that way.  While we had a great time being home, I knew I would have to say goodbye and the thought of it scared me. The day came where we had to leave. I honestly didn't want to. I didn't want to let go of her, I wanted to hold her and stay there and feel her arms around me and smell the scent of her skin that I was so addicted too when I was a young girl. She always smelled so good. I was scared to leave. She couldn't come to the airport so on our way out, my eyes didn't want lose sight of her, and everybody else. At the end, I really couldn't see much because of all the tears. I was crying so much that it actually put me to sleep until we got to the airport. I cried as I always do before leaving every one behind and walking through the customs doors. It hurt again to say goodbye.

Once in Canada, I went through the same roller coaster of emotions. I couldn't sleep and most of the time, when I was lucky, I would run on a two or three hours battery, daily. Headaches were back. The pain in my joints never really left. My body hurt. I was depressed. I tried to be cheerful, playful, and show a good happy face for my children but it didn't always work. Yann would often walk to me and use his fingers to make me smile and tell me to be happy. Or asked me what he could do to make me happy. I felt like an awful mother. Christmas holidays came and really slowly, I felt that my days were getting better. Some weeks were great some okay then some weren't so good.

Today, I am feeling much better. I still have bad days but at least there are not daily ones. I dislike it when my phone rings because I am dreading the awful kinds of call that nobody wants to answer to. I am more focus now, and am determine to go back to where I was mentally and physically before that phone call. January started with new adventures and opportunities for me and for my family.

I am so grateful for my wonderful husband, for loving me and our boys, but also for loving my family. I am grateful for his kindness to me. For serving me, caring for me, and loving me despite my issues. I couldn't be happier to be married to someone who treats me the way he does. Always so respectfully and so genuinely. Someone who loves me less than he loves his Savior and Father in Heaven but more than anyone else on this earth. I am grateful for my boys who love me unconditionally. For hugging me, kissing me, loving me and telling me that all would be okay again, when I was sad.